What Love Isn't
by PLAZBhearts
Summary: A little R&R I concocted for a late v-day present:: Don't judge. Everyone has to have some way to get paid. I've been told that I'm good at what I do, but not good enough to get out of it. My name, Roxas. My theme song, "Roxanne" by the Police. Fits too good doesn't it?
1. Chapter 1

WARNING: the following story is rated M for being a LEMON. Read at your own risk.

It was a late Thursday night, not usually a good night for business, but tonight was different. The day was Valentine's Day.

I walked by flickering street lights on littered streets. This part of the city was always quiet. All the neon business signs that glared down on me welcomed only those with an unwelcomed past. It was kind of chilly in the sense that I got goose bumps walking around alone.

My gaze tried to lock on to my usual redhead. He was a tall beautiful god that was awfully hard to track down when you wanted him, but would always spout out of the shadows when you least expected. If, out of all the guys I've been with, had to pick a favorite, it would be him. I was consciously aware that I'm just a toy to be used when wanted, though he made me feel like a person and that takes a lot. I was a little more desperate than usually to find him. Who knows who I'll end up with otherwise?

The sky was clouded like a storm was coming, but each stale grey fluff avoided covering the florescent moon. A slick black car pulled silently through a puddle from last weekend's storm.

A little overly excited, I ran to the side window hoping to see those rich emerald eyes. Instead, two frozen sapphires met me. Once I came over the original shock, I gave a seductive smile. This guy had to be rich to have a car like this. It blended in with the shadows themselves as if ready to become an absent figure in the night.

Pale yellow street light soaked both of us, allowing for small exchanges in visual information. He was probably only a year older than me with enough muscle to compensate for any sign of weakness. His long black coat blended in with the car's leather except for the glittering sliver pieces. This look was not uncommon in these parts, many of my costumers dress like this, but he didn't look like he was around here.

What caused his eyes to send a chill with ice into my blood? I figured I would never know. His pose was neutral, one hand on the steering wheel another on the window I was peering through. He wasn't hot, no I wouldn't use that word to describe such a chilling figure, he was more . . . glacial. Then I saw the most fitting aspect of him: his hair.

"How much?" His voice intruded my thoughts.

"For you . . ." I judged my price out of my possible enjoyment. He was muscular, really muscular compared to my twig arms. I was fascinated by his long sliver hair. "$130 for the night."

"Get in," his smile coaxed me. "What's your name?" He asked once I had shut the passenger door.

It wasn't until this moment that I thought that he could be an undercover cop. How my heart sunk. That would explain a lot: the car, the outfit, willingness. I realized I was holding my breath when I came across logic. This guy couldn't be a cop, if he was then he wasn't on duty. "Roxas,"

"Rrrrroxas," he rolled the R temptingly. "I'm Riku." He pulled into a parking lot and got out.

I followed him in my curiosity. "Where are we going?"

He laughed at my ill knowledge. "I'll get us a hotel room, if that's okay?" He looked for my opinion.

What did this guy care? He was just going to fuck me and leave, why did he care about my comfort? "Um, sure?" I was cautious, but not about ready to pass up the chance to get some cash and a bed. Honestly my regular redhead, Axel's his name, he cared about me. Though he did never seem to be there when I wanted him—when I needed him.

"It's okay," he laughed, sensing my hesitation. "I don't bite."

I had never been in such a rich looking room, ever. Not even before everything went wrong. Thin tan curtains splayed across the windows, blocking the darkness from furthering its advance into the glow. Bright incandescent light bulbs shone into every detail like the flash during a photo. This was nothing like the usual back alley, bar room, or trashed car I was treated to. Did something like soft wool carpet exist in TCTNW?

The bed looked plush and wide. Currently, it was very clean. It wouldn't stay that way for long I knew. A bed. Still the thought of a true fabricated substance escaped me. Layers of blankets and pillows the user would never use all of. No holes, no bed bugs, this wasn't like my "room" with my "bed" back at Derail. The color of the sheets was similar, though. They had the same dark brown earthy look. But I believe these sheets were intended to be like this.

I really didn't want to believe it. How could this guy afford a room like this for a one-nighter? Well, I was going to make it count. "Shall we?" I swallowed all the nerves that I had to get the night going.

"Oh, sure," he looked even more nervous.

"You alright?" Usually I wouldn't bother, but I was still getting paid. A talker was just what I needed to rack up cash.

"Um, yeah, it's just . . . you don't need to know." He plopped down on the comforter.

I shrugged indifferently. "It doesn't really matter to me. It's your time." I sat down next to him. "Ears, body, eyes, everything else, it's yours for the night." I ran a hand gently through his snow white locks. The sad part was I wanted him to use me. I wanted to feel something, even if it wasn't real, even if it wouldn't till morning. The strange tugging of this and that, hitting here kissing there and all the force made my night.

His lips were cold and begging for the warmth of interaction. He was the one to make the first move, most of the time they were. The sloppy kisses to the right side of my face left me to act next. I slipped over to straddle him. With one knee on either side of his, I wanted to close my eyes and imagine he was someone else. Each time I denied the inner wanting. I couldn't allow my eyes to shut, not again, not again.

My black t-shirt was pulled over my head in a twisting struggle. My clothes were tight for it attracted more wanting eyes that way. Once my bare chest was exposed, he kissed it up and down like he would. I focused my ways onto his back. Careful not to leave any unwanted marks for later, my fingers trailed down his back. He came up to my eye level just as I had reached his lower back. It was my turn to explore his chest.

Air rushed into my lungs as his fingers found the clasp holding my pants onto me. The next move sent me pinned against the mattress, naked. His icy eyes were warmed up to a frozen fire. This was the part I knew was coming the whole time. I was a toy, always was, always will be. He showed me a nicer side, but that didn't prevent him from getting his way. This was a short change in pace since he had hardened while thrusting. This kind of pain was so typical for me; it wasn't a night without it. The kind of pain that had my whole body crying for mercy as it burned like an eternal inferno no amount of water could cool off.

"Argh!" I cried out arching my back off the bed. Whatever he was crying or moaning or groaning was drowned out of my ears. The warm, oh too familiar, creamy feeling overcame my soreness. Another night, another man, another payday under my red belt.

~Yes! I wrote a lemon! This took me a very long time and I don't think it turned out that well . . . but I did it. Man, do I feel proud of myself. Okay, enough of my rambling. I need some opinions This took so long time for me to come up with that its almost sad. I came up with a ongoing story line for this, but I need to know if someone out there wants to read a drama packed roller coaster ride story following Roxas. There might be better lemons in the future.

~Shikabloom!


	2. Starting Again

**Hey! Sorry for this being kinda really absolutely late. Life's been one big mess of drama and work so I didn't have as much time as I would like. So, yeah if any voices out there are reading this, thanks I appreciate it. Without further ado, Chapter 2:**

**Starting Again**

I woke up the next morning to the shining sun leaking in through thin curtains. It was a sudden snap to consciousness. I didn't recall falling asleep, but it was rare that I ever did. It took a minute for me to process my surroundings. Then it occurred to me as the silver haired customer of mine from the night before groaned at my motion.

I checked the bedside clock that glowed my answer in yellow: 9:45. Great, my shift started in a little more than an hour and I still had to run across town and get ready. I leapt out of the torn apart bed, hoping to wake up my company. My clothes were in undistinguishable piles.

"Wh—What?" I heard him moan.

I could picture him hazily opening his eyes and wondering what he had done last night. "Pay me and I'll be on my way." I stated without feeling. I was a little sore, but this wasn't a new sensation. If this was months ago, I would be crippled. Though, this isn't the past, this is what's happening now and I need to stay focused.

"Look, Roxas, was it? I'm—"

"Just the cash, please." I looked back at him over my shoulder. There was something in his eyes. A possible flicker of emotion for more than I was capable of. I knew something similar to that look. He—they both used to look at me that way. But that look, that emotion, was fake. If they cared, they would've stayed, they would've been there. I wasn't about to get hurt by waking up to find myself alone again. That was the only thing I knew for sure.

"Roxas, just take this." He held out a business card. Surely his number would be on it. He pulled out a wad of green, counted, and held it out to me.

I grabbed the cash with a satisfying lunge before running out the door. Of course, since I was saving up for a better life, I had another job.

I got across town with fifteen minutes to spare.

"Cutting it close." My coworker's British accent mocked me.

"Shut it." I countered hollowly.

Without even a glimpse around Derail, I shoved myself into the four stall bathroom. These dirty tile floors were the closest thing I had to a residence. Within one of the larger stalls was a patch of tile that no one would notice was off balance from the others. Yeah, it probably wasn't the most sanitized of places to hide my stuff, but I needed a place that just happened to be right there.

Inside the thin translucent fabric was all I owned within the circular, round globe. It wasn't much. A variety of clothes, a sharp bristle hair brush, a standard make shift emergency gear, and a few knick knacks that I picked up from the good moments. I kept all my money in an old tennis ball tube that I found years back. With my last payment added to its contents, it was almost fulfilled enough to wish for a companion in its banking requirements.

Since I was running late, I didn't have much time to gawk at my few possessions before shoving myself into my work apron.

What was Derail? Derail was a little "pub" of sorts opened up way back when. Its antique style upgraded very slowly compared to the skyscraper city. A couple years back it got the name of being a bar. The place has never been big. On a busy night you could expect maybe one or two parties of four to five. Money was never an issue, though. I always got my normal minimum wage paycheck plus tips every payday. Pretty well considering I didn't do much.

Its loyal customers kept it busy from dusk to dawn and back again. Derail was more than just a bar to these people. This was the tailgater's crowd, the date night fantasies, catching up with friends while choking down hot wings. The people that hovered here were something else. It was always hard to distinguish who knew what about me or who I might be seeing later that night, but no one ever broke the invisible line of bringing it up.

My coworker, the short haired sun soaked goldie that included the hair on his chin, was called Luxord. From what I knew about him, he was a good guy. He was multi-talented and could probably accomplish anything he wanted to, but he would often sit back and let fate take the reins. At some points he could be almost methodical when it came to comparing life to a game.

He's been working here longer than I had, but we don't get to detailed about our pity conversations. He mostly handles the money and drinks and the occasional dealer job on gambling days. Might I add, if I'm not out of order, he was the best card player I had ever seen. Not that I've seen a lot. I created a back story for him in my head where he's an old Vegas dealer that got fired for sneaking away cash. Since then he's been on the run to protect he's money.

I cleaned. Yeah, I know, not the most exciting job, but it brought in the dough while keeping me to the side of the main stream.

Derail was empty this particular afternoon. I was mopping the floors while Luxord polished glasses. Tonight was band night and the lead band would often show up sooner than later. This bad was probably one of my favorites. It wasn't often I got to hear my choice of music—try never. Why I like this band over the others is because they played the greatest variety known to mankind. They could go from classical, to punk, to rock, to pop, to what-it-was, and back again. It would never be the same thing twice so you could never get bored.

Demyx, the lead guitarist of The Nocturnes, was by far the friendliest of the four members. He was playing with a napkin held down by an empty glass that wasn't his. Now, Demyx was cute, not customer cute, more like a puppy dog cute. He had a dirty blonde Mohawk and these big blue eyes. Not my type for a relationship, good thing too because he was taken by this book worm in another town.

"Hey, Demyx?" I started a conversation to break the burdening silence.

"Hm?" He sat up straight in the stool.

"You're awfully quiet today. What's up?" It was true this guitarist knew how to rant on about anything and everything until your ears gave out. He would go from how he loved talking to how he hated the use of potatoes in salad. It certainly made up for anyone's social awkwardness when he would always be the first to strike a conversation. One day I nearly wanted to duct tape his mouth when he wouldn't shut up about how clouds were so devious. "I mean look at them! They look so fluffy and soft, but if someone gave you the chance to lay on one, you would fall right through and be soaking wet! What is up with that?" He would say.

"Just band problems." Some people would've just ended it with that, not Demyx. "Our drummer's out with the flu. Xiggy's busy trying to find a replacement, but if we don't get one by tonight . . ." Demyx need not finish that sentence for everyone knew what it meant. They were already being cut short since their other place went out. They can't play. They can't get paid. Worst of all, they can't eat.

"That's rough. Wish I could help." Actually, I didn't. If I got caught up in something else it would only distract me from my goal. Anyways, the most I could do was sing a little.

"Yeah, thanks. Hopefully Xiggy will come back with something."

"Fingers crossed." I went around the worn stools with my swishing mop. Demyx was a great person that didn't deserve this. I wanted him to find a solution it's just I couldn't be of any use so why bother? I gave him all I could, words. That's all I had.

"You know, I once knew this guy. He came once or twice a week for a while, but then stopped coming all together." Luxord started a story out of nowhere. "He would never say much. Drank by the bottleful. In between shots he would tap the glass against the counter. Came out sounding pretty good. Perhaps he'll be up for the job if you can find him."

I knew who Luxord was referencing. That little glass tap dance he would do carried through to more. I know him well. "That redhead?" I played dumb.

"Oh, right, that was right when you started working here."

"Do you know his title? His name? Address? Location? Phone Number? Eye color? Anything that could help us find him?!" Demyx was pleading desperately. "If he is a great drummer, and I know that Lux does have a great sense of rhythm, then how could it hurt to have him as back up?" Demyx had no idea that I had an answer to his rhetorical question. It would hurt me. It hurt me just thinking about being close to the redhead. "Please, Lux, Rox? Do you know anything about him? Just could you just remember the name of this person?" Demyx asked us both hopefully.

"Hm, I don't think he ever mentioned it." Luxord rubbed his goatee.

"I think it was like Axel or something." I said, hoping not to raise any personal suspicions. I kept my thoughts, eyes, and everything else on cleaning the floor. Making the wood lemony fresh was my top priority. My spinning emotions about the redhead in question would have to wait until you could eat off the floor. Perhaps I'll hold off all the feelings till he arrives which then I could use my panic as stomach flu. Luxord would be nice enough to cover my shift if I stayed late tomorrow. Yes, that was the plan that formulated itself in my mind within seconds.

"Axel." Demyx echoed. "Got it, I'll text Xiggy." He whipped out his phone.

"Lux, you really have not seen him lately?" I asked while Demyx was far too preoccupied to notice my concern.

"As fate would have it, I haven't. What a shame, he was just the kind of spirit we needed to light this place up."

"Right, well, let me know how things turn out. I'm off to pick up . . . "chicken wings, celery sticks, ranch . . ." blah, blah, blah, you get the point. I'll be back before the after work rush," I told Luxord with my boss's long list of things to get.

"Kay, kid, here's some cash. You know the usual drill, but don't sweat it." Luxord put down the glass and cloth combo onto the bar. At this time Demyx had mysteriously vanished into the bathroom. He handed me some dough from the cash register. The funny thing is, as much as I needed money, I would never steal, especially from Derail. Luxord picked up on this long ago so I was highly trusted within his ranks.

I really did plan on doing my job, but I also wanted to check something out. Something that has been bugging me for a while.


End file.
